


Happily Ever After?

by Thoronris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affairs, Break Up, F/M, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Investigations, Love Triangles, Possessive Behavior, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thoronris/pseuds/Thoronris
Summary: One evening, Harry Potter stands at the door of Hermione Granger's apartment, heartbroken and desperate. Two years after the end of the war, Ginny has ended her relationship with him, and Hermione, who despite her relationship with Ron still lives alone, takes him in  until he finds a new place to stay. But not only Ginny's feelings have subsided. Hermione also wonders more and more often if her love for Ron still has a future. The fact that she comes across Draco Malfoy again through her work in the ministry doesn't help her much. Neither does the fact that living together with Harry turns out differently than expected...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Happily Ever After?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/582406) by Thoronris. 



"Hey, Harry."

Smiling, Hermione opened the door to her apartment. She was happy to finally see her best friend again after he had been up to his ears in work for the ministry for the last two weeks. Not that she had much time herself. On the one hand she gave a course for young ministry candidates on how to use written sources for research, on the other hand she had to pursue her own work, the study of magical artifacts of the past. And then there were the dates with Ron, which she had to accommodate somehow. So, it was definitely not Harry's fault alone that they had not heard from each other for so long.

"Evening," he replied much less enthusiastically as he stepped in and peeled off his jacket. Surprised, Hermione noticed that he had clearly visible dark circles under his eyes, his face looking sunken in the flickering light of her candles.

She automatically went into listener mode. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"That sounds perfect!" Harry nodded and with a deep sigh let himself sink onto the sofa in front of her fireplace. He remained silent while she prepared the tea in the kitchenette adjacent to the living room.

When she finally came to him with two cups of tea and placed one in front of him, he took a deep sip, not caring about the temperature of the hot tea. Then he pushed the cup back onto the table and with another sigh buried his face in his hands. "Hogwarts has been a long time, hasn't it?

Thoughtfully, Hermione tilted her head. That was a direction she had not anticipated. Carefully, she hitched up. "The battle seems like an eternity ago, even though it was only two years ago.”

Her eyes rested attentively on her best friend. His face was hidden, but the tension in his shoulders and the shaking of his knees were clear signs that something was wrong with Harry.

"I never thought I would say this," he murmured inaudibly, "but everything was easier then. Growing up... sucks.

Worried, Hermione moved closer to him on the couch and put one hand on his thigh. "Can I help you with something?"

"Ginny broke up with me last week," it finally burst out of him.

"What? Why?"

Slowly, Harry sat up again and looked directly at her. "She said ... she thought she had idolized me all her life. And during the war, when we were all living in constant fear, she never even thought of questioning her feelings for me. So she says. I don't know... she said that in her daily life with me she noticed that there were no butterflies in her stomach.

Instinctively, Hermione felt anger rising within her. "That's normal! Infatuation will pass eventually, we can't have butterflies in our stomach all the time, we would die of excitement. What does she expect?"

Beaten to death, Harry leaned back, eyes closed. "What do I know? I really tried everything. We only moved in together six months ago. I thought it would help us. More closeness and all that. But obviously ... it was the opposite."

"Oh, Harry," whispered Hermione with compassion. Without thinking about it, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her chest. In an instant, he returned the hug, pressed her tightly against him and buried his face on her shoulder.

They remained like this for minutes, both in silence. Hermione did not dare break the silence. She wanted to wait for Harry so he could have the space to show his feelings openly. And she really felt sorry for him. Ginny had been his first real love after Cho, and she knew that he felt sincerely for her. And the other way round, Ginny had always had a crush on him, even when she had tried other boys in between. That they would not marry and grow old together was a completely absurd thought for her.

"We'll always be friends, won't we, Mione?"

The hardly noticeable trembling in Harry's voice almost broke her heart. She squeezed him a little harder. "But of course, Harry. We are not just two students who met by chance. We have been through so much together. You'll always be my best friend."

Slowly he released himself from the embrace, "And you my best friend. You and Ron are the two most important people to me. Don't you ever break up, okay?"

Uneasily, Hermione rolled her shoulders. If she was honest with herself, she had been doubting for weeks whether her relationship with Ron still had a future, but at the same time the very thought of leaving him just felt wrong. With a crooked grin she nodded. "Don't worry, we've had plenty of time to sort out our feelings back at Hogwarts."

Her grin was reflected on Harry's face. "Yes, really. Ron has made every effort not to see his own feelings, I don't think that now that he has finally recognized them, there’d be a big change."

Hermione could only shrug. It was not the right time to talk about her own relationship problems, but sooner or later she would need Harry's advice. She stood up. "Would you like another cuppa?"

"Gladly," Harry replied, who was obviously relieved to have finally expressed his heartache. A new sigh escaped his lips. "Oh, I just don't know what to do now. Ginny is keeping the flat, so I'll move out as soon as I find something new. It's okay for her, but ... I don't know if I can still be in a room with her without ... I'm just so angry and sad and I don't understand it. You know?"

Hermione chewed on her lip as she waited for the tea to be ready. She understood only too well that living with Ginny without being able to get close to her was torture for Harry. She briefly laid her head back and thought, but she knew that she had actually already made her decision.

She returned to the coffee table with both teacups in her hands. "If you want, you can stay with me for the transition. The sofa here can be converted into a bed, it's quite comfortable. And I wouldn't mind, we both go to the ministry every day anyway."

Harry looked at her with big eyes. "Really? I mean... that would be great, but... wouldn’t I be in your way?"

Laughing, Hermione shook her head. "You're one of the most unobtrusive people, I bet I don't even know you're here."

"You really are a lifesaver!"

With a broad grin, Hermione let him hug her once more. She hoped very much that Ron would not mind that Harry stayed with her, although she had never offered her boyfriend that before. She had always told Ron how much she needed her space and that she did not want to move in with him quite so fast. She was no longer sure herself if that was the real reason, because the thought of living with Harry for a few weeks was more exciting and appealing than disturbing. It was really time for her to analyse her feelings for Ron!


	2. Chapter 2

Tense, Hermione played with the straw in her latte macchiato. Ron had been silent for a long time now, longer than he could normally hold out, and she could clearly see a steep crease forming between his eyebrows. She had expected this reaction.

"Why do you want to live with Harry but not with me?" he finally asked without looking her in the eye.

Hermione sighed. She knew from their time together searching for the Horcruxes how unsure Ron was whether she might prefer Harry after all. How could she make him understand that nothing had ever happened on that level between her and Harry? She let go of her coffee and reached a hand over the table to Ron. "This is not about what I want. Harry needs a roof over his head until he has found a place of his own. Am I supposed to abandon him?"

Ron did not take her hand, but let himself sink back into his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. "He could also live with me."

Disappointed, Hermione pulled her hand back and ran her hand through her hair. "Sure. But you happen to be the big brother of his ex-girlfriend. The chances of her visiting you while he was living with you are pretty high. And that would be very uncomfortable for all of you, don't you think?"

Finally, he looked at her directly, but his expression was still dark. "You always have the better arguments; did you ever notice that? This is really exhausting."

"What?" Hermione stared in disbelief. "How can you blame me for this?"

Instead of an answer, Ron turned his gaze away and looked out the window. Annoyed, Hermione shook her head. It was so hard for her sometimes to deal with Ron's insecurities. She could understand that as the youngest brother of many, it was difficult to stand out as an independent man, and friendship with Harry, who after all had been famous from birth, had not helped. But it was really time for him to realize that she was with him and not Harry, of her own free will.

"I'm sorry." Ron sighed softly.

Attentively, Hermione looked at him as he slowly relaxed and turned back to her.

Doubtful, he continued, "I just wish ... I want to spend my life with you, Hermione. I've always wanted that. And ... I know you want your freedom and need space for yourself. I understand that, really. But sometimes it's just so... hard. And then suddenly you take Harry in, and I know how well you've always got along. And I know how guys tick."

A compassionate smile came over Hermione's face and again she reached out to him. This time, he grabbed her to massage the back of her hand with his thumb. As warm as possible she replied, "I know, Ron. And I am really grateful to you for being so patient with me. But really, trust Harry a little bit more. He's your best friend, he would never do anything to hurt you. And I certainly wouldn't. I'm just trying to help him take the breakup with Ginny a bit better."

With obvious difficulty, Ron returned her smile. Hermione closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on her hand. It was one of those rare moments of peace and quiet that she enjoyed so much in her being with Ron. And she prayed with everything she had that this was enough for their future together.

* * *

For the third time, Hermione leafed through the file that her secretary had put on her desk in the morning. She knew it was pointless, but she was not yet ready to face the inevitable truth.

The traces of the vase led so clearly to the Malfoy family that there was no next step but to seek them out. It had gone missing in the Middle Ages, but their hard-working staff had got their hands on records of black market auctions that recorded the sale of a vase in the 1950s. A vase which, from its external description, could be exactly the one that was missing.

She sighed.

Lucius was still in Azkaban for his deeds under Voldemort, but Draco Malfoy and his mother were out on parole thanks to their helpful actions. So, if she paid a visit to the estate, she would involuntarily have to deal with both of them. She dreaded it. Not only because she associated unpleasant memories with Malfoy Manor. She had only spoken to Draco once after the war ended, just before the hearing. She had promised him she would testify for him. Instead of a thank you, he just stared at her scornfully without saying anything back. His hatred still seemed unbroken.

Annoyed, she ran her fingers through her hair. Times had changed, she was now officially a ministry employee, and he had to talk to her if he did not want to be involved in the actions of his grandfather Abraxas Malfoy. He probably did not even know that he had a black magic vase in his house.

She decided to simply try an unannounced visit the next day. When people were not warned, they were more vulnerable and more easily revealed things they were trying to keep secret. And she knew that Malfoy had never been good at keeping things to himself when his temper got the best of him. Perhaps the mixture of surprise and hatred would reveal something interesting.

Or, if she was particularly lucky, he might not even be in the house tomorrow, so she could talk to his mother alone. Narcissa Malfoy was a surprisingly intelligent woman who knew how to keep her own feelings and opinions to herself when the circumstances required it. She would never become abusive towards her.


	3. Chapter 3

"That's all?"

Hermione looked sceptically at the suitcase with which Harry had just entered her apartment. She could not imagine that a grown man had so few possessions that it would fit into a single suitcase.

"Well, I don't have as many books as you do. And the furniture in our apartment, I left all of it to Ginny. I'll buy new furniture as soon as I find a place of my own. I'd only remember her if I took some of it with me anyway," Harry explained with a shrug as he put the suitcase down. A bit awkwardly, he stood around her living room as if waiting for her to tell him where to put it.

Smiling, she crossed the room and pointed to a now empty bookshelf. "Here, I've put the books out, you can put your things in there. I've made a curtain in front of it, so everything is protected from the eyes of curious guests. I will turn the sofa into a bed for you in the evening. You are welcome to use the dining table as your desk. I prefer to sit at the desk in the corner over there anyway. Eating alone at the dining room table always seemed... nonsensical.

"You sure I'm not in the way?"

Hermione smiled warmly at her best friend. "Of course not. Oh, Harry, not at all. I'm almost glad to have a roommate for a short time. It'll be fun, believe me. We can go to work together in the morning, we'll cook dinner together in the evening, and if you ever have nightmares, I'll come and hold your hand."

At the last words she had to fight not to laugh out loud, but when Harry gave her a playful slap, it was all over for her. She burst out laughing and infected Harry with it. It was liberating and beautiful, and almost like when they used to go to Hogwarts together and no one thought of war.

"You know what? You unpack in peace and I'll cook us something nice and then we'll just make ourselves a cosy evening, what do you say?" Hermione suggested after they both could breath again. Harry still nodded with a grin, then turned to a suitcase with a deep sigh.

As her cooking skills were limited, Hermione opted for simple pasta with pesto, a dish for which she always had all the ingredients in the house because it was quick and tasty. It did not take more than ten minutes for Harry to approach her from behind and look over her shoulder into the cooking pot. A strange nervousness seized her.

"Well, what is it?"

She turned to him, only to find that he had actually been standing right behind her. Surprised at his sudden closeness, she blushed slightly before taking a step to the side to reveal the view of the stove. "Something very unusual! Pasta!"

"Mmm, my favourite dish! And it's so rare! Pasta, that's so extraordinary!" Harry giggled.

Sulking, Hermione put one hand on her hip while she waved the wooden spoon in the other in front of him. "Sorry I'm not a Molly! There'll have to be a few more kids crawling out of my hips before I have the leisure to just cook all day!"

Laughing, Harry took cover from her cooking spoon. "Oh no, better not. So many kids are just ruining your figure, and we don't want anything to ruin your perfect body!"

Hermione’s laughter got stuck in her throat. If Harry wasn't working through his break-up with Ginny, she would have suspected he was flirting with her. She knew she was just imagining it, especially as he was Ron's best friend, so it was impossible. That she interpreted it that way said a lot more about herself. Obviously, she hadn't experienced a real flirtation for so long that she already misunderstood the harmless fooling around with an old friend.

Determined not to let her nervousness show, she pointed to the refrigerator. "Will you bring me the glass with the red pesto, please? We might as well eat now."

Harry complied with her request without further ambiguity, and when she finally mixed the steaming pasta with the pesto, the stimulating smell of paprika spreading through her small flat, Hermione realised that she was infinitely hungry. And hungry, she had never been quite sane before.

Instead of going to the dinner table, Hermione lowered herself into her sofa, preferring cosiness to proper table manners. Her parents had been strict with her long enough, now she was her own woman, she could decide how she wanted to live.

Silence filled the living room while they both devoted themselves to their meal, but it was not unpleasant. Hermione remembered how she had been alone with Harry for a long time during their search for the Horcruxes, after Ron had fled, overwhelmed by his negative feelings. Even then, Harry had had a wonderful way of dealing with silence. With him she could simply enjoy the silence. Happy with herself, with the food, with Harry and everything around her, she simply enjoyed the relaxed evening.

"What's on your agenda tomorrow?" Harry finally broke the comforting silence.

She could only roll her eyes. "I've got to go to the Malfoys. My department has traced a black-magic vase It seems Abraxas Malfoy acquired it ages ago, so it may still be in the family."

A wry grin appeared on Harry's face. "I can see you're deliriously happy."

Playfully angry, she stuck out her tongue at him. "If you were in my place, you'd probably have to send a chaperone along so you wouldn't kill each other."

A loud laugh rang out. "A chaperone would probably be the last thing we need. If anything, we’d need one here."

Still his wry grin on his lips, Harry looked over at her and raised one eyebrow. Again, Hermione blushed and again she wondered if Harry was flirting with her or if she was just imagining it. In a firm voice - or at least she hoped her voice sounded like it - she replied, "You're so conservative sometimes, Harry. As if a man and a woman today seriously need a chaperone just because they share a room."

He laughed again. "Wait till you get into my bed..."

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted him, now flaming red. He went far too far with his jokes, serious or not. She got up hastily, picked up the two dirty plates and went to the kitchen.

When she turned back to him, she pulled out her wand and pointed to the couch. "I'm going to change your bed now. One more dirty word and I'll give you a mattress of stone!"

Harry's grin widened even more, but he remained silent and behaved well.


	4. Chapter 4

The mansion looked almost more impressive from the outside than Hermione remembered it from the inside. As much as the events during the war had affected her, she had always been aware that Malfoy Manor was a grand, magnificent building. The Malfoys were living proof that good taste alone was not enough to make a good person.

Nervously, she looked at the old-fashioned door knocker. She could not deny it to herself, she was anxious. She had no idea how Draco Malfoy or his mother would react to her unannounced visit, and she feared she would once again be exposed to the disparaging looks of her most hated schoolmate. 

Angry with herself, Hermione remembered that it had been long enough since they had gone to school and neither of them were children any more. Surely, even Malfoy had learned a touch of manners by now. Determined, she reached for the knocker.

It did not take more than five seconds before the door was magically opened and a house elf stared at her with his big eyes. He was carrying a thick towel, in which a hole had been made for his head, and a small rope around his belly to hold it together. Hermione sniffed. The house elves still lived in captivity as slaves for the old wizard families. She would probably never make peace with this part of the wizarding world.

"Good morning, miss," the squealing voice of the house-elf greeted her, "What can Robby do for you?"

"Good morning, Robby," she replied and smiled broadly at him, "I am Hermione Granger and I'm here on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Artifacts. I would like to speak to the Lady of the house or to her son."

"Mistress Narcissa is not present at the moment," the house elf explained intimidated. "But Master Draco is just taking his breakfast. Come in, I'll announce you."

Hermione cursed her luck, but as she didn't want to take her bad mood out on the innocent house-elf, she just nodded and stepped in. The entrance hall alone seemed larger than her entire apartment, as she grimly noted. Despite their decline after the end of the war, the family's wealth was unbroken. Although many of their possessions had been confiscated because they were clearly believed to have black magic properties, the gold itself and the estate had remained. Of course, Narcissa had donated an indescribable amount of gold to pay off her family's debt, but still their wealth was astonishing.

While the house elf in front of her headed for a door that probably led to the breakfast parlor, Hermione took off her hat and coat. Shortly afterwards Robby returned, now even more clearly unhappy than before.

"Master Draco sends word that he will not receive any unannounced visitors," the house-elf timidly explained, without looking up at Hermione.

"Oh, did he say so? We shall see about that."

Without responding to the house elf's protest, Hermione stomped across the entrance hall towards the door through which the house elf had previously disappeared. As expected, she found a small salon behind it, with nothing more than a small table and six chairs. At the head of the table on the other side of the room sat Draco Malfoy, his head buried in the Daily Prophet, in front of him an empty plate and a cup of steaming coffee.

"Good morning," Hermione said aloud and stepped around the table without being asked.

Malfoy lowered the newspaper. "Have you got hearing problems? I said I didn't want to see you. Get out."

Stubbornly, she stretched out her chin. "I am not here for fun, Malfoy. I'm here as a Ministry employee and I have a right to speak to you and have you show me your premises."

Obviously angry, he threw the newspaper on the table and stood up. "So, you're a Ministry employee now, huh? What department?"

She smiled triumphantly at him. "Magical Artifacts."

For a brief moment, Malfoy faltered in his movement, then he closed the last distance to her and built himself up in front of her with arms crossed in front of his chest. "Oh, yes, but of course. It was only natural you'd follow that twit Weasley. Are you hoping your little redheaded friend will propose when you work in the same department as his father?"

Hermine sharply sucked in the air between her teeth. What was wrong with Malfoy that he had to insult her immediately? Determined not to be provoked by him, she replied, "Who would have thought that a scion of the Malfoy family would know so little about politics and administration. Arthur Weasley deals with the misuse of magical artifacts. This involves artifacts that are played into Muggle hands. My department, however, deals with artifacts in the magical world. Namely, the black-magic ones."

Malfoy's grey eyes became even colder, if that was at all possible. "And what, Your Highness, leads you to me then? You know best that all black magic items were confiscated after the war."

"Don't lecture me, Malfoy," Hermione shot back just as coolly. "You know as well as I do that often only a close examination reveals the true essence of an object. There was simply no time for that then, so only the obvious things were taken."

In response, he just snorted. "Fine. Suit yourself. I tell you it's a waste of time, but please, I'd love to show you our whole house. Anything in particular you're looking for?"

Surprised that Malfoy had given in so quickly, she looked up at him. "Uh ... no. As if I'd tell you if that was the case."

Shaking his head, he walked past her and went ahead. "Yes, sure. Just as you please. Anyway, I have no choice. As my mother puts it, we should cooperate with the Ministry."

Sceptically, Hermione raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing. It sounded too much like the family had a lot of dirt on them after all and would now be so open to the Ministry, mainly to avoid arousing suspicion. She would keep her eyes open all the more.

"What do you say, Granger, would you like to see my bedroom first? Surely it would be of particular interest to you?"

Abruptly, Hermione stopped. The spiteful grin on Malfoy's lips and the fact that she blushed against her will only worsened her situation. Why did all the men suddenly feel the need to unbalance her?

"Shut up and show me your house," she grumbled, which earned her just another laugh. But unlike before, it sounded real and not mean.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

An extremely awake Harry Potter scurried through Hermione's apartment, freshly showered and dressed only with a towel around his waist. She herself was already standing in the kitchen making coffee, but she was far from awake. It was not that she had a problem getting up early. But before her first cup of coffee in the morning she was a rather dangerous woman. Without even looking at Harry, she put two slices in the toaster and then returned to staring impatiently at the slowly dripping coffee.

"How did it go at Malfoy's yesterday?" Harry inquired, apparently unaware of the difficult mood his best friend was in. Totally unimpressed, he stood next to her in the kitchen with dripping hair and still more naked than dressed, leaning casually against the worktop, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Hermione noticed him from the corners of her eyes - and was suddenly wide awake. Damn, why did Harry have to show off his well-toned chest so early in the morning and look so confident at the same time? It was obvious that he was still playing Quidditch in his spare time.

She swallowed, kept her eyes fixed on the coffee and commented dryly, "Exactly as I expected. He was more than unkind. But when I mentioned the Ministry, he caved in rather quickly and showed me the whole house."

"Well? Did you find the vase?" he asked.

Still Hermione couldn't look at him. "No. But I'm pretty sure I didn't see everything. Remember that dungeon we were trapped in? We didn’t go there, but I didn't see an entrance to it anywhere either. We went through every door that I saw. So, Malfoy's hiding something."

In a gesture that was presumably meant to be encouraging and friendly, but which triggered distinctly different feelings in Hermione, Harry pulled her to his chest and stroked her head. "It'll be all right. You are not the smartest witch of the century for nothing. You'll find some way to penetrate the dark recesses of the Malfoys."

Meanwhile, Hermione stared up at her best friend with her mouth open. She had seen Harry so rarely since Hogwarts that she had never noticed how grown up he had become. How manly. She swallowed hard. "You should put on some clothes."

For a moment, Harry just looked at her questioningly, but then, for a split second, his eyes fell on her lips and suddenly he turned as red as she did. Hastily he let go of her and stepped away from her. "Yes ... sorry. I'll be right back."

With a racing heart, Hermione was left alone in the kitchenette. This was not good. This was not good at all. If it was only her who reacted like that, everything would have been all right. The closeness of a half-naked man who didn't look bad and had a sense of humour, could throw a woman off balance. A completely normal reaction. But the fact that Harry so obviously thought anything but chaste thoughts, at least for a short moment, opened the door to disaster.

A loud clack made Hermione flinch - the toast was ready. Cursing about her own frightfulness, about her inappropriate feelings and about the whole situation, Hermione fished the two slices out, put them in the bread basket and put in two new ones.

Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to let Harry stay at her place after all. Perhaps the fact that things were not going so well with Ron was a clear warning that she should not let any other man into her life until she had got her relationship back on track. She should definitely go on a real date with Ron again. Spend time with him, just him. Listening to him, talking about herself, just letting everything that brought them together in the first place flare up again.

* * *

The disapproval on his mother's face was only too obvious. Draco sighed heavily. He had expected that she would not approve of what he had done but he just couldn't help himself. Hermione Granger was just Hermione Granger.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded in an icy voice to know. "Our family is lucky to have received anything like mercy. We are dependent on not upsetting the Ministry. We're on probation, otherwise we’d be in Azkaban, do you understand that? The slightest suspicion, and they have every right to lock us up as well!"

Annoyed, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, mother. But Granger is just so ... ugh. She walked in here as if she owned the world. I know I should have been polite. I know I should have welcomed her with a smile. If it hadn't been for Granger..."

Unimpressed, Narcissa put her teacup back on the breakfast table. "Hermione Granger was one of those who defended us most clearly, Draco. Why don't you put your ridiculous animosity towards her behind you and face reality?"

Furiously, Draco struck the tabletop with his flat hand. "What do you think I did? I talked to her, I showed her the whole house and I didn't insult her! What more do you want?"

It was obvious that his mother was still dissatisfied with him. "Look at the situation from her eyes: first you refuse to receive her - an official ministry employee. Then, after she has exerted pressure, you suddenly give in and voluntarily show her the whole house. Don't you think she'll find that strange?"

"So what?" he demanded to know. "She has seen everything and had nothing to complain about. It's all over."

A pitying smile appeared on her lips. "No. No, it certainly is not. Hermione Granger wasn't here on a whim, she was looking for something. And I have a hunch what she was looking for. You didn't show her the whole house, did you? You didn't take the spell from the stairs that hides the door to our vaults, did you?"

"So what?"

His mother sighed heavily and Draco suddenly got the feeling that he was not privy to all the family secrets. Furiously, he clenched his fists. "Mother?"

Her gaze was icy again when she looked directly at him. "Next time Miss Granger graces us, you will show your most charming side. I know you're good with women. Be nice to her. Distract her from what she's supposed to be doing. I'm thinking of how we… It doesn't matter. Just make her trust you.”

Draco had lost his appetite. What his mother was asking was impossible. And he didn't want to do it at all.


	6. Chapter 6

The file on Abraxas Malfoy was surprisingly thick. He had obviously been active in the artifact business during his lifetime, had not missed any of the major auctions and had also regularly organized exhibitions himself. 

Annoyed, Hermione ran her fingers through her thick curls. The trace of the vase clearly led to him and all records of his activities after that showed no sign that he had sold it to anyone afterwards. So, the vase had to still be in the Malfoys' possession. She wondered if Malfoy was aware that a potentially dangerous item was somewhere in his home. How much did he know about his grandfather's passion for collecting?

She flipped back to the beginning. Abraxas Malfoy had died of dragon pox in 1989, so it was unlikely that he had ever talked to his grandson about any matters of concern. And as she assessed Lucius Malfoy, he had never trusted his son enough to let him in on family secrets. Whenever she had seen father and son together somewhere, an indeterminable contempt spoke from his behaviour towards Draco. As if he was disappointed that his son was just an average wizard.

Reluctantly, she pushed the papers away. Now was definitely not the time to feel sympathy for Draco. Although it came out after the war that he had done many things only because Voldemort had put extreme pressure on him and his family - which is why she testified for him - his behaviour when she visited him in the villa spoke a language of its own: He still looked down on her. As if she hadn't proved that the blood status didn't say anything about magical talent. Besides, at least she had a paid job, while he was following the ancient life of an English gentleman – which meant by definition he was not working.

Determined, she reached for her coat. She would pay him another visit on the spot and not leave until she was sure that he did not know about the existence of the vase. She would not be frightened by his behaviour again.

With a bang she apparated to the borders of the Malfoy estate. Biting cold lay over the vast land, a frosty veil had been drawn over nature. The villa lay before her, surrounded by absolute silence; only the steam rising in curls from a chimney testified that someone was home.

Hermione stood up to full height and walked towards the entrance with her head held high. Again, she was greeted by the house elf, but this time, to her surprise, he led her straight into the house without consulting his master first. Suspiciously, she raised her eyebrows. Was her visit expected?

"Miss Granger!", the melodious voice of Narcissa Malfoy greeted her, "You honour us with your visit again so soon!"

Still suspicious, Hermione looked to the stairs that the mistress of the house was just descending. She was wearing an elaborate, expensive-looking dress that made her figure look feminine despite her advanced age. The dark green flattered her blond hair. Hermione swallowed. Mrs Malfoy definitely looked more like she was attending a ball than simply receiving an official guest in her home.

"What can I do for you?" she inquired when she stepped closer to Hermione and extended a hand to greet her.

Politely shaking the hand, she replied, "I would like another word with your son, Mrs Malfoy."

In a well-calculated movement, an eyebrow moved up. "My son? He told me of your visit, but he seemed convinced that he had fully complied with your wishes."

Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling that this woman was trying to hide something from her, but she had no intention of being provoked. "Yes, indeed, I have been able to inspect the house to my satisfaction. But I still had a few questions that only came to my mind later. I'm a bit inattentive sometimes, you know?"

She smiled sweetly and noticed triumphantly that her absolutely uncharacteristic utterance made the cold mask of the lady disappear for a moment, but immediately she gathered herself again. "Only too gladly. He is in our library right now. Robby, show Miss Granger to Draco."

Quickly, Hermione got rid of her coat and then followed the little house-elf into one of the back wings to a large, double-wing door. There Robby stopped. "Please, Miss, here is the library. The house-elves are not allowed to enter it, so unfortunately you will have to knock and enter yourself. Robby apologizes for the inconvenience."

Grimly, Hermione pressed her lips together. So much faith in these friendly, magical creatures. Unbelievable. She took a deep breath, then entered without knocking.

A paradise of books opened before her. High, beautifully decorated shelves of dark wood stretched as far as the eye could see, and at the other end of the huge room a spiral staircase led up to a gallery that spanned the entire room. Upstairs, too, the walls were covered by bookshelves, and already from a distance, Hermione could see that there were much older books there. Leaning casually against the railing, Draco Malfoy stood on the gallery on the left side of the room and leafed through one of the books. When he heard the sound of the closing door, he turned around and looked down.

"Ah, Hermione, I was wondering when you'd come back to me!"

She couldn't resist the fact that her mouth just opened and she stared stupidly up at him. Where did this sudden friendliness come from, this overly familiar attitude? She closed her eyes and shook her head. This family more than obviously had something to hide. With long, firm steps she crossed the room and climbed the spiral staircase.

"I'm glad you've finally learned some manners," she greeted Malfoy as she arrived before him. "Why not be like this from the start?"

A guilty grin appeared on his lips. "Old habits. I'm really sorry I gave you the cold shoulder. Can you forgive me, Hermione?"

As if to lend even more meaning to his confidential address, he bent down to look at her directly at eye level. Hermione swallowed. She knew that Malfoy had been popular with the girls at school, but now, for the first time, she found herself exposed to the full power of his charm, and this threw her completely off balance.

"I-," she started, but she had to interrupt herself as her mouth suddenly dried up and she was unable to continue.

"Why don't you let me take you out to lunch?" Malfoy suggested as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "As an apology? And I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have."

Again, her mouth opened without her coming up with an answer. What was going on? What did the Malfoys have to hide that they were bringing in such heavy artillery? Did Malfoy seriously want to show himself in public with her? 

Suspicious, she closed her mouth and squinted her eyes. They wanted to fool and distract her, that much was certain. But she would not give up so easily.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied cheerfully and returned his smile. Determined, she looked him in the eye, just waiting for him to drop his put-on behaviour, but he looked back with the same broad smile, kept eye contact and indeed seemed enthusiastic. Convulsively, she forced herself not to blush or look down.

Finally, he laughed softly and straightened up again. "Beautiful. Let's get our coats. I know a very good restaurant in London."


	7. Chapter 7

Like a gentleman, Draco helped her take off her jacket upon arrival at the restaurant, then moved her chair at the table and sat down himself only after he was sure she had everything she needed. Hermione was sure that with this behaviour he could normally wrap the women around his finger without any problems, but he would not succeed with her. He obviously wanted to hide something with his fake act - and if he wanted to play, she would be only too happy to show him that she wasn't to be taken lightly.

She brought out her sweetest smile, put one arm outstretched on the table while the other played with the tips of her fork as if lost in thought, and waited with her gaze turned to the side for Draco to open the conversation.

"So, Hermione, why don't you tell me a little about yourself," he began after ordering a wine and an ominous-sounding dish for both of them.

She looked straight at him, but without losing her smile. "But why should we talk about my boring life? We're here to talk about you."

She innocently batted her eyes, but Malfoy obviously wasn't impressed by that. "You probably know everything about me already. The ways of my family have remained under the supervision of the Ministry after the war. And I bet before you first appeared at the Manor you studied a thick file on me and my family. So, you know more than enough. Return the favour and let me share your life."

Tense, she folded her hands in front of her on the table. Obviously, it would not be easy to get through Draco's defences. She decided to play his game for a moment. "There's not much to tell about myself. I started working for the Ministry right after the war, first as a simple employee, now as a team leader. I specialized in tracking down and confiscating black magic objects that were sold illegally at auctions. This is what I do for a living."

Triumphantly, she noticed how for a moment an uncertain, thoughtful expression entered Draco's eyes, but this moment was over far too quickly. He leaned over to her a bit and lowered his voice- "And what else? They say you are still with Weasley. When will the wedding bells ring?"

She rolled her eyes involuntarily. Of course, Draco would do his best to get anything out of her during this conversation that he could use against her later. With an uncaring gesture, she replied. "Ron and I are indeed still a couple. We haven't talked about marriage yet."

Her meal came, but instead of feeling relief that she didn't have to go into their relationship any further, Hermione was, on the contrary, only more insecure than before. In front of her, on a tray, was a collection of bowls and small plates, a pair of chopsticks, and in the middle between them was a large pot of rice.

"What is this?" she asked cautiously.

Draco grinned broadly. "A perfectly normal Japanese meal. I take it you can eat with chopsticks?"

Angrily, she stared at him. Of course she didn’t know how to eat with chopsticks and she was absolutely aware that she would only embarrass herself if she now took the fork that was on the table with the other usual cutlery. Without being able to hide the anger from her voice, she asked, "Japanese? This doesn't look like a Japanese restaurant."

It was far too obvious how much Malfoy was amused by the whole situation, but he actually deigned to give an answer. "It's a cooperative restaurant. There are restaurants in ten countries around the world, all of which are magically connected. The chefs each prepare only their local specialities, but as a guest you can order from all ten kitchens. And I felt like Japanese today."

Without giving her another glance, Draco grabbed his chopsticks and balanced them so effortlessly between his fingers that Hermione immediately knew he was coming here often. She would have loved to pour the hot vegetable soup - or whatever this somewhat cloudy soup with the strange green stuff and white cubes in it should be - over his head, but she controlled herself. 

Instead, she decided to try her luck with the chopsticks. After all, she had always wanted to try Japanese food. She studied exactly how Draco held his chopsticks, then concentrated on squeezing hers between her fingers and made a first attempt to lift a piece of pre-cut meat with it.

She failed miserably and the piece of meat covered with sauce landed inelegantly between the bowls. A suppressed laughter sounded.

"Cute, Granger," Draco commented provocatively, as if he had forgotten that he wanted to be kind to her.

With a bright red face, Hermione tried again and this time, she actually managed to manoeuvre the piece of meat into the empty bowl in front of her. But what now? Hesitantly, she squinted over to him and noticed that he had first filled rice into his bowl before he had reached for other ingredients. Frustrated, she gave up.

"Very funny, Malfoy, really," she hissed.

To her surprise, he didn't laugh at her any further, on the contrary, he looked more than serious. With an elegant movement, which made Hermione roll her eyes again, he put his chopsticks aside, wiped his mouth and grabbed his wine glass. "What exactly did you expect, eh?"

Angrily, she spat, "I don't know? Maybe dealing with an actual adult instead of your childish antics? Do you really think it's appropriate to embarrass me in a restaurant? I mean, honestly, are we still in school?"

"What did you expect," he repeated his question, but this time he continued, "You come to my house, demand that I show you the whole mansion, without really telling me what it is all about. And because I am not licking the dust off your shoes, you threaten me with the power of the ministry. And then, after I've done all that, you come back again, because... yes, why, huh? Was the tour not satisfactory? Put your cards on the table, Granger, perhaps I'll be polite then. If you don't like it, I'm going to enjoy my lunch.”

Hermione stared at him with her mouth open. What was he thinking? She was a Ministry employee and had the right to search his house if there was reasonable suspicion. Angrily, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, while Malfoy actually continued to eat as if her had no concern in the world.

Groaning, she grabbed her fork, shovelled rice and meat into her bowl, and began to eat. Should he and the rest of the guests here think what they like about her, she would enjoy the meal and then return to her desk at the Ministry. She knew when she lost a battle, but she would not give up. Whatever Malfoy intended with this action, she was now more convinced than ever that the vase was indeed still in his family's possession.


	8. Chapter 8

"I haven't been shopping in Muggle London in ages. Just this once, Ron, please."

With quick steps, Hermione hurried through the streets, her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, while she dragged a large shopping bag in front of sic with both hands.

"Would you like to come over for some cosy cuddling instead? Just the two of us?" Ron insisted on his counter-proposal. His voice sounded tinny from the phone speaker, an obvious sign that he was still close to his work. Most Muggle devices didn't work in buildings used primarily by wizards and you had to go a long way to get clear reception for your phone.

"We can do both," Hermione replied panting, "First we'll go and have a nice stroll through the shopping streets, and in the evening, we'll cook at your place together. What do you say?"

She was glad she had persuaded Ron to get a phone. She had deliberately chosen an apartment in the heart of London because she didn't want to forget her Muggle roots and loved the hustle and bustle of the city. But any means of communication of the wizards would have been just too conspicuous if she walked through the streets in the usual way, so half a year ago she had taken the time to explain to Ron how a mobile phone worked. By now, they were talking on the phone every day and he seemed to really enjoy bombarding her with text messages.

"Alright", Ron finally agreed. "But you cook!"

Involuntarily, Hermione had to laugh. "Excuse me? You don't really want to do that. You know how... how well I cook."

"It's not that hard. You just have to do it."

"Maybe it's not that hard for you," countered Hermione, as she put the bag into one arm to look for her apartment key with her free hand. "Not everyone had a Molly who taught you everything as a child!

"Fine, we'll cook dinner together. I'll just show you what to do!"

Hermione smiled when she heard the playful tone in Ron's voice. In fact, he loved that he was so clearly better than her on at least this one thing. She quickly said goodbye to him before the phone could slip between her ear and shoulder and pried open the heavy door to her apartment building. She knew that Harry was already home, as he stopped by her office before he left. Allegedly he was preparing a surprise.

She hoped it was a good surprise. After lunch with Malfoy, she could use all the encouragement she could get. If Harry pulled any pranks, he would get the shock of his life today. She was in no mood for jokes.

When she arrived at the front door, she smelled something that made her mouth water. Harry was cooking something. Or rather fried, if she interpreted the unmistakable smell of dough in a pan correctly.

"You're just in time," he greeted her as soon as she opened the door. "The last pancake is almost ready!"

Hermione stared at her kitchenette with big eyes. Yes, it definitely smelled good in here. But the mess Harry left behind was definitely worth seeing. With a groan, she put the heavy shopping bag on the sofa before hanging up her coat and getting rid of her boots.

"I hope you intend to clean up this pigsty yourself," she greeted him half accusing, half joking.

"I actually thought we were going to work on a division of labour. I cook, you clean," Harry replied seriously, but when he turned to Hermione, she could see the mischief in his eyes.

"If you know what's good for your health, you won't risk it today," was all she said. She commented his questioningly raised eyebrow only with a tortured grin.

When she finally returned from the bathroom to the living room half refreshed, Harry had already set the table, the pancakes were steaming in the middle, and he even found a bottle of wine somewhere, now open, waiting for her.

"I knew you were going back to Malfoy today," he explained, as Hermione looked at him in surprise. "And I could guess that this was not such an exhilarating thing for you. So... here's a little cheer-up. So you don't accidentally rip my head off."

In silence, Hermione sat down at the table and reached for the first pancake. If Harry was always so attentive, she really couldn't understand why Ginny had broken up with him. It was as if he could read her mind - always saying or doing exactly what she needed.

After she gobbled up the first pancake without saying a word, she finally said, "Malfoy was an arse. Absolutely childish. But if he thought he'd get rid of me like that, he’s going to be surprised!"

Harry smiled at her crookedly. "You'd think he'd learned not to provoke you."

Laughing, Hermione took a big sip of wine. "Which only proves how little brain he has."

Before she knew it, they finished all the pancakes and a second glass of wine. Content with herself and the world, she poured a third glass and sat down in front of the fire. An actually terrible day finally took a nice turn. Not only had she persuaded Ron to take her to Muggle London at the weekend, but now she could also relax with good wine and good company. Such a Friday still had something good about it.

Grinning, she noticed that Harry, who sat down next to her on the sofa, was now quite red in the face. Obviously, he was not used to drinking wine in such quantities. Not that she was used to it herself, but she was sure she didn't look half as drunk as he was.

"You know, Hermione," he began, after a long period of communal silence, his tongue heavy with wine, "I am really grateful to you for taking me in. I didn't think so, but... you're really good for me. I miss Ginny every second I think of her, but when I'm here... with you... I'm distracted. Alone, I'd probably just go crazy."

"That's what friends are for, Harry. We'll work it out. And I like to distract you, believe me."

Clumsy, Harry put his wine glass down on the small side table, then grabbed her hand with both hands. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for. I don't know what I would do without you. So many things would have been different if I had never met you. Just think back then... the Horcrux hunt...”

Hermione's breath quickened. She didn't want to think about that time. Too much had happened. Not just the horror of the hunt itself, but between her and Ron. And between her and Harry. The time when they'd been alone without Ron had done her heart no good.

Only slowly her thoughts registered how Harry pulled her closer to him. "Without you I would have simply given up then. Without you, I would have given up so many times in my life."

Suddenly, Hermione was only too aware of how close they were. She leaned against him; her breasts pressed tightly against his upper arm while her thighs lay close to his. Heat that had nothing to do with the wine or the fire spread through her body. Nervously she moistened her lips before finding the courage to lift her gaze and look Harry straight in the eye.

What she discovered there scared her: she could read his affection, but there was more behind it. The sudden longing that she herself felt was clearly reflected in his gaze, which was fixed on her.

Merlin help her.

With the last bit of self-control, she stood up, put down her wine glass and shook her head. "I... I better go to bed. The day was long. Thank you for the food... and... the wine."

And before Harry could say anything back, she fled to her bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

From her place at the kitchen table, Hermione watched Ron toss the vegetables into the pan. In the end he had again taken over most of the cooking work, as she was too clumsy in cutting the peppers and peeling the potatoes. The fact that her thoughts wandered off to other things didn’t help either.

She sighed, her fingers clasped around a mug of hot tea, and stared at Ron's broad back. The day with him had been nice, for he had obviously made an effort to have fun. However, at no time did she feel that she was actually on a date with him. It was more like the old days, when she and Harry and Ron had regularly gone down from Hogwarts to the village of Hogsmeade to drink a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks or to try out the latest creations of the Honeypot.

The near-kiss with Harry the day before did the rest.

She really loved Ron. But as she looked at him as he prepared dinner in the kitchen - such a familiar sight - she began to wonder if she was really in love with him too.

And then she wondered if Ginny had felt the same way. By the time Harry showed up at her door, heartbroken, she had a clear explanation of Ginny's behaviour - who could expect to feel butterflies in her stomach after two years in a relationship? But now she found herself almost at the same point. She didn't expect to feel all giddy and happy all the time, but shouldn't there still be something there? Even Harry, whom she had always considered a brother, could drive the heat into her cheeks, while Ron...

"Dinner is ready!" the same one announced at that moment and interrupted Hermione's circular thoughts. 

With skilful hands, he divided the contents of the pan into two deep plates and placed one in front of Hermione, the other on his own place on the table. To do this, he placed a glass and a bottle of beer on the table, while Hermione was given a new mug of tea.

"Enjoy it," he said cheerfully as he sat down opposite her at the table and without hesitation began to eat.

"Thank you," Hermione muttered. 

The fried vegetables that Ron cooked up smelled heavenly, and the long day shopping had robbed her of her energy. She decided to put aside all her worries for the moment and concentrate instead on the meal her boyfriend had prepared for her.

"I've been thinking about it this week", Ron finally broke the silence that had spread in the kitchen. 

Amused, Hermione noticed that he still hadn't gotten rid of his habit of talking with his mouth full, but she wasn’t bothered by it anymore. Questioningly, she raised an eyebrow to ask him to keep talking.

"I think it would do us good to see... less of each other for a while."

Hermione nearly dropped her cutlery. "What?"

"Does that really surprise you?"

Hermione stared at Ron with her mouth open. She could see he was uncomfortable in his skin, but his gaze was determined and lay motionless on her. When had Ron grown up so much?

"Do you want to break up?" She broached the subject uncertainly. The food in front of her was forgotten, the cutlery set aside as a precaution so that she could concentrate on the conversation. A nervous tremor gripped her. She had just thought about this very thing herself, but to hear it from Ron's mouth gave it a new dimension. It became real.

Ron shook his head. "No. Just ... a break? My words still stand: I love you and I want to spend my life with you, Hermione. But I want you to feel the same way," he explained, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. "I want you to want me as much as I want you. When we are together, that is beautiful. It feels nice, safe, familiar. Like home. But...", now he blushed, "Sometimes I have the feeling that you do not find me... attractive, you know? I'm a man, and I want the woman I love to make me feel like a man...”

Ashamed, Hermione lowered her head. She knew exactly what Ron was getting at. She loved him, but when it came to lust and desire, there was little. And as inappropriate as it was, the scene with Harry the night before reappeared in her head uninvited.

"Oh, Ron..."

With a tortured smile Ron leaned forward. "I am simply too jealous. I think of Harry living with you and I have all sorts of dark thoughts. And then you talk about it rationally and I know you're right, and yet I think I'm allowed to think it's bad. I think it's great that you can be rational and not get bitchy like other women, but..."

Hermione saw that Ron had actually wanted to talk about this matter calmly and openly, but in the end his emotions ran away with him again. And she understood him, she really did, but she couldn't get out of her skin. In all situations in life she used her mind first, before she questioned her feelings.

Well, at least as long as she wasn't drunk. 

"Maybe you're right," she said quietly, "Maybe we just need a break. Sometimes you get used to things and lose sight of how much they're actually worth."

Ron nodded affirmatively. "That's what I mean. You really mean a lot to me, Hermione, but if we really want to have a future together, then ... I must mean a lot to you, too. I want to marry you, Hermione."

As if he had struck her, she lowered herself back into her chair. He wanted to marry her. Of course, he wanted to marry her. It was only logical.

And yet...

The idea was abstract, and as soon as he'd said it, Hermione felt as if someone had set up a trap for her. Was she really ready to spend the rest of her life with Ron? There was so much more to see in the world, so much to find out, so much to... feel.

"I understand you, Ron," she whispered, "If we really want to grow old together, we'd better find out now rather than later how deep our feelings really are. A break is... important."

"It doesn't have to be forever," Ron quickly added. "Maybe until the New Year or so. Just two or three weeks of going our own ways. I'm sure we'll both soon realise that we miss each other. We'll see what we have on each other."

Hermione just nodded. Unlike Ron, she wasn't so sure if this would actually be the result of a temporary separation. What if she felt happier? What if she liked life without Ron as a partner?

What if things with Harry turned into something more?

Tears came involuntarily. She needed to talk to Harry. She just had to know what was happening, what was going on inside him. He was still Ron's best friend.

"Hey, Mione, come here," Ron whispered tenderly and went over to her, crouched down next to her and pulled her to him. "Don't cry, please. We're gonna be all right. You'll see, the break will do us good."

Hermione sobbed and buried her face on his shoulder. If Ron knew what she was thinking about. If he knew what her feelings really were. If he had any idea what had happened between her and Harry. She felt like a fraud and she hated it.

And on Monday, to make matters worse, she had to go back to Malfoy to finally make progress on the vase case. It was just so much. Too much for the Christmas season, which should be so beautiful.


	10. Chapter 10

Lazy, Hermione snuggled into her bed. It was Sunday morning and there was no need to be up and about so early. The world outside her blankets was far too cold anyway, especially as she was not yet ready to face Harry. When she came home from visiting Ron yesterday, she had not seen Harry anywhere, and he actually seemed to have returned to the flat after she was already in bed.

She had decided not to tell him that she took a break in her relationship with Ron. At least not yet. She wanted to make sure first that this near-kiss was just an accident which would never happen again, before she told Harry about her love life. It would be unthinkable if he took her break in the relationship as an invitation to get even closer to her.

Which made her wonder why he behaved the way he did toward her in the first place. He had just split up with Ginny and Ron was his best friend. The last thing on his mind right now was flirting with her.

The smell of coffee interrupted her thoughts. Sniffing, Hermione sat up in bed. Was Harry preparing breakfast for her? She wanted to bury her head under the pillow in frustration, but it was no use. She had to face reality. She had to tell Harry that his behaviour was totally inappropriate, that he had to stop being so sweet to her.

She just quickly put on the next best sweater and stuffed her nightgown into a pair of comfortable pants before opening the door to the living room and gazing with a dark look at the kitchenette.

"Good morning," she was greeted by a clearly too chipper, too cheerful Harry.

Her gaze grew darker still. "And what is this when it's finished?"

Obviously surprised by her hostile attitude, Harry turned to her completely, the full coffee pot in one hand, two cups in the other. "Breakfast, of course. Is that bad?"

Groaning, Hermione ran through her wild hair. "Why are you making me breakfast, Harry?"

Carefully, he set the pot and cups down on the table. "I want to be nice to you. You took me in so spontaneously, it's only natural that I should..."

Undeterred, she interrupted him, "Why are you really making me breakfast?"

The blush spreading to Harry's cheeks immediately told Hermione she'd caught him. So she hadn't just imagined his behaviour after all. With a long sigh, she lowered herself into one of the chairs at the dinner table.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she followed up when he didn't answer her question.

Slowly he sat down opposite her. His gaze was firmly fixed on the coffee he had just poured into the two cups. "I don't know. I just thought... maybe I wasn't thinking."

She took her coffee cup with a snort. "Yes, that's what it looked like. Harry, you're fresh out of your relationship with Ginny. And I'm... I'm with your best friend. What the hell made you think it might be a good idea to make me dinner and wine? That's not what best friends do for each other..."

"You were the one who snuggled up so seductively on the sofa!" he suddenly spat at her. 

Surprised, but satisfied that he finally looked directly at her, Hermione let herself sink back into her chair. "I wanted to comfort you!" she defended herself. "I know how hard it is for you to work through a broken heart. You weren't good at this sort of thing at Hogwarts. I was only trying to help!"

Almost scornfully he replied, "Oh, that's why you put your hand on my thigh? To comfort me? How exactly were you going to do that, that consoling?"

She opened her eyes in horror. He couldn't mean it. What was he trying to imply with his words? She stared angrily into his eyes. "Are you seriously accusing me of cheating on Ron?"

She couldn't believe what Harry was saying. Shaking with anger she rose from the table to put some more distance between her and him, but Harry followed her immediately. Grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know exactly what you're doing here?" he demanded to know, his face only inches away from hers. "Ron has told me often enough that lately he feels you're not burning for him as you used to. He said it was probably the stress at work that distracts you and prevents you from being able to show your feelings openly. How surprised do you think I was when I arrived here, at your apartment, and you... reacted like that to me, huh? I was just teasing you a little. I wanted to be funny!" 

His voice got dangerously low, and although Harry was hardly taller than she was, Hermione felt that he towered above her. With a dark tone of voice he continued, "You blushed every time I showed myself half-naked or flirted a bit jokingly! What did you think how I would react?!"

Her breath quickened. "I'm... you just surprised me with it."

He pulled her even closer until the tips of their noses almost touched. "Do you know how I really felt back then during the Horcrux hunt? When Ron accused us of having a thing with each other ... I felt guilty, Hermione! Because I knew, deep down, that Ron was right. If I could have... if I didn't know exactly how he felt about you... but I didn't think you felt that way! So, I ignored that. I focused on building a life with Ginny.”

Stunned, Hermione shook her head. What was he saying? Why was he saying such nonsense?

"I was only teasing you, Hermione," explained Harry, who was beginning to sound really desperate. "Maybe I wanted my ego stroked, I don't know. But after Ginny ended the relationship and I came to stay with you, there it was again, that feeling. And I thought if I joked about it and teased you a bit, then I'd get my clear rejection. I thought you'd put me in my place, laugh at me, something. Instead, you blush, can't look me in the eye, and you just snuggle up to me like this.”

As if through a veil, Hermione became aware that Harry was now pressing himself against her with his whole body, that he was successfully holding her between the kitchen counter and himself. Her heartbeat raced along as she desperately tried to look at the situation logically.

"Ron is my best friend," Harry spoke between clenched jaws as if he had to make an effort, not to ... Hermione didn't want to think about what exactly he had to keep away from.

"I would never do anything to hurt Ron," he continued, "but I just can't go on. For two years, I've been ... no, actually a lot longer than that ... I've been holding back because I knew he was in love with you. And I knew you weren't interested in me. So, I said nothing. But now I can't do this anymore."

And before Hermione could process what exactly Harry was telling her, he'd closed the last gap and kissed her.

He kissed her with a passion and a desire that Hermione never felt before. Unable to resist the onslaught of his feelings, she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss. There was no tenderness in this kiss, no loving exploration, only pent-up aggression and suppressed lust that suddenly pushed forward with all its might. Harry's hands were suddenly everywhere, his teeth nibbling at her lips, digging into the sensitive skin of her shoulders, and again and again he wordlessly asked her to open her lips and let his tongue in.

When his hand finally went under the fabric of her nightdress, Hermione interrupted his hot kisses. "Stop, Harry. This ... this is not possible. Not so fast. We have to talk about this, we can't just..."

"To hell with talking," he shouted at her, but a determined look from her made him actually take a step back.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest, she looked at him. "All this here ... this is not possible. We can't just throw everything overboard. Use your head, Harry.”

She saw his jaws locked, his hands clenching in fists and then opening again, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned abruptly, grabbed his coat and took long steps towards the apartment door.

He already half opened it, when he turned to her again. "You're holding yourself back with your own mind, Hermione. I can't stand it any longer. If you want to be so damn stubborn, be my guest. Go to hell with your lack of emotion!"

And with that, he was out the door and gone. Speechless and hurt, Hermione was left alone. What exactly did she do wrong?


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione was sure she had never been in such a bad mood in her life. The two most important people in her life had thrown her into an emotional hole and, what was more, she was unable to carry out her current task for the Ministry. Why did Draco Malfoy have to be so difficult? She actually had no interest in playing any more games with him, she was too emotionally drained after the weekend.

She stubbornly stretched her chin out as she knocked on the door of Malfoy Manor again. If Narcissa Malfoy and her son were to try their dirty tricks again, she would lay her cards on the table today and get everything he knew out of Draco. Her patience was simply at an end.

"Ah, Miss Granger," she was greeted, much to her surprise, by the Lady herself. No house-elf opened the door, but the proud woman herself.

Determined not to be put off, she replied, "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy, I hate to disturb you again, but I'm afraid my last conversation with your son was not satisfactory.”

"Come in," said the older lady with an inviting smile and stepped back, "I have learned from Draco what has happened. The boy's just too wild. I don't know what's gotten into him. But rest assured, I have made it clear to him that I will not forgive further discourtesies to you. So, he will be cooperative."

Sceptically, Hermione raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing. Narcissa Malfoy was far too eager to please her and be kind to her for Hermione to believe for a moment that she was sincere. She hung up her heavy winter coat, then let herself be led to the library, which was obviously Draco's favourite retreat.

No sooner did the doors close behind her than she stepped energetically towards Draco, who was sitting in his armchair reading books and pretending not to notice her.

"Hi," she greeted him curtly, "Your game is up, Malfoy."

He deliberately closed the book slowly, put it next to him on an occasional table, and then looked up at her even slower. "What game?"

Impatiently, she snorted. "The game you and your mother are playing. I have no interest in being fooled by you any longer."

Elegantly, Draco folded his hands in his lap while he continued to look at her untouched. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. Without waiting for an invitation, she pulled a chair from a desk, placed it directly in front of Malfoy and determinedly sat down. "Fine, you innocent lamb. If you insist, I'll be happy to spell out why I'm here."

Hatred fluttered in Draco's eyes, but his voice remained calm. "I beg you. I can hardly wait."

Hermione took a deep breath, then bent over, elbows on her knees to look directly at Draco, so she wouldn't miss a single reaction. She was at least minimally prepared to believe him if he said he knew nothing about the vase. For now.

"Your grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, was very active in the trade of black magic items," she then began her explanation. "In our research, we discovered that he once purchased a particularly dangerous object at an auction. A vase, to be precise. After that, the trail gets lost, which is why we assume the vase is still in your family's possession."

A slight twitch of the corner of his mouth told Hermione that Draco at least knew that his grandfather was involved in such deals. Good. With renewed courage, she continued, "Depending on the type of black-magic object, owners are more or less willing to cooperate with our department. That's why I tried to approach the matter in a friendly and diplomatic way, to give you a chance to reveal the possession by yourself. But your mother's behaviour speaks a clear language: She knows what this is all about, and she will do everything she can to distract me and cover up the traces. The question is, Draco." She deliberately used his first name. "How much you know."

Uncertainty was reflected in his eyes, but he immediately regained control of his features. "I won't let you talk about my mother like that."

"Fine," Hermione hissed, "Said vase has some rather interesting magical properties. And we know of at least one incident here in the Manor that took place after the vase was purchased, which is most likely due to these properties. Would you like me to describe what happened?

Draco's face turned into an icy mask; his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest. "I can't wait to hear what horror stories you have in store for me."

A grim smile appeared on Hermione's lips. Draco would still regret his arrogance. Quietly, but with a firm voice, she explained. "When you fill this vase with flowers, no matter what kind, it develops an aura that has a strong effect on female beings. It is like a powerful aphrodisiac that makes women almost without will. In the past this was often used deliberately. And indeed, there has been an incident here on the estate. Your grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, had invited to a celebration, only for a few select guests - Death Eaters, to be exact. Many of these men were older, but they were all single. On the other side of the guest list were the daughters of important families, but their loyalties were not clear. Pureblood families who were not yet sure if they wanted to support Voldemort or not. But, as you know all too well, an invitation from the Malfoy family was always accepted. And though there was probably much suspicion, they were also instructed that the invitation was for the daughter alone, and that no one was to accompany her."

Hermione watched attentively as Draco's face grew paler. She wondered whether it was because he knew the story or the exact opposite. Relentlessly, she continued, "By the end of this ceremony, each of the older men had found a wife. Each of the daughters present ... and some of them were only sixteen years old ... each one was married. It's strange how that happened, isn't it?"

Triumphantly, she noticed that Draco's hands were now clenched in fists. With an almost devilish joy she explained the research of her department. "There was a daughter who had resisted. She told the ministry a very strange story. She told them that she hadn't felt well that night. That she could see that the other girls were not feeling well either. She swore that she hadn't touched alcohol, but she still felt drunk. The few things she remembered exactly were that she had slept with one of the men present. And she also knew that all the other girls had had sex with the men, right in the grand ballroom. Some of them had let more than one man have their way with them. All night long there was one big orgy. She herself said that she had had at least five different men, although she was a virgin before that. One of the men had asked her father for her hand the next day. Her father had said yes, no matter how much she resisted."

A slight nausea took hold of Hermione, a chill in her stomach that she felt every time she thought about the effects of the vase. A dozen young women had been exposed to the arousing effects of the vase that evening, and the men had shamelessly exploited it to have their fun. 

She took a deep breath, then she continued, "All these girls lost their innocence that evening. And the Pureblood families, conscious of tradition as they were, were more than happy that the men actually wanted to marry their daughters. The whole thing was swept under the carpet and hushed up; the families were too ashamed of their daughters. Nobody cared that it was a mass rape using a black magic object."

Draco was so pale by now that Hermione almost felt sorry for him. She was sure that he did not know anything about these things - he hadn't even been born then and she could hardly imagine that his parents would have told him something like that while he was still a child. 

She leaned forward a little further, put her fingers under his chin and forced him to look her straight in the eyes. "So, tell me, Draco Malfoy. Do you know about this vase?"

Reluctantly, he slapped her hand away, but shook his head.

"Do you want this vase to remain in your family's possession so that others may enjoy its effects?"

For a moment the corners of his mouth twitched, but finally his cold, repellent mask returned. "This is only speculation! Who knows why all those women really married those men!"

This was the reaction Hermione expected. She smiled sweetly at him. "Then it is only convenient for you to help me prove that this vase is not really in your possession, isn’t it?

Draco stared at her with his mouth open. She could almost see the gears of his mind turning. Confident of victory, she added, "It's very simple: You help me to actually search the mansion thoroughly until I can't suspect a single thing against you anymore. If we find nothing, you can be satisfied that I was wrong. But if we do find the vase ... no charges will be brought against you, because you were ignorant and cooperative. Either way, if you help me, you'll win in the end."

A hateful blaze appeared in Draco's eyes. Full of fury, he jumped out of his chair, bent down to her and grabbed her throat with one hand. "You are the most despicable creature I have ever met, Granger! Do you enjoy kicking others when they’re down? Do you get off on living out your power fantasies here?"

She choked and gurgled while his grip on her neck tightened. He approached her face up to a few centimetres, contempt lay in every corner of his face as he continued, "I'll show you everything, you can bet your life on it. I will prove to you that the Malfoy family never resorted to such perverse acts. And then you can look forward to a complaint for slander and coercion!"

Breathing heavily, he let go of her, took a step back and built himself up to full height while waiting for her to get up from her chair.

With trembling hands, Hermione rubbed her battered neck. It hadn't gone the way she imagined, but she probably couldn't really blame him. She would probably have reacted similarly if her family was charged with such atrocities. 

Still. She had forgotten how unpredictable and aggressive Malfoy could be. A mistake she would never make a second time.

She nodded at him. "Then are you ready to show me your hidden cellar now?"


End file.
